


3:43 am

by nightshifted



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightshifted/pseuds/nightshifted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The text arrives at 3:43 am, and all it says is: <i>Montoya treehouse.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	3:43 am

The text arrives at 3:43 am, and all it says is: _Montoya treehouse._

Santana texts back to ask what's up, but she knows she won't get a response. Worse, she knows that Quinn knows that her damn curiosity will get the best of her regardless, and she'll show up with an angry slew of Spanish curses.

Santana slips into a pair of jeans and a hoodie, then quietly sneaks out into the early morning darkness.

The treehouse on the abandoned Montoya property is one that both girls are familiar with. It'd been Santana's first, but when the Fabrays had rolled into town with their slender blond-haired daughter, she'd learned to share. Santana thinks Quinn's pretty awful about ninety percent of the time, but Quinn's always had a presence about her, and Santana had been drawn from day one. Someone would have to threaten to chop off both her arms before she'd admit to it, but Quinn Fabray is fucking hot.

Santana pulls herself up into the treehouse and finds Quinn sitting in one corner, calmly reading a book.

"What the hell, Q?" Santana demands. "You need to get a grip on your own goddamn self-importance."

Without looking up from the page, she smirks. "You showed, didn't you?"

"Fuck off. What do you even want?"

"I—" A flash of uncertainty appears across Quinn's features, but it disappears just as quickly. "I'm… curious about something. And I was hoping you could help me with it."

Santana narrows her eyes. "Is this where I tell you I'm not going to feel you up just to see if you like it, and you tell me you're not that into that?"

Quinn stays quiet, finally sliding her bookmark against the page she'd been reading and closing her book. "Santana, I just—" Her shoulders slump slightly. "I'm not asking you to feel me up." Even under the dim lighting, Santana notices that Quinn's cheeks are bright red.

"Then what the fuck do you want? It's almost four in the morning."

Quinn rises to her feet and looks everywhere but at Santana. Her mouth opens and closes but nothing comes out.

"Spit it out!"

"Can I kiss you?" Quinn blurts out.

Santana's body jerks against her will. "Are you _high_?"

"No, I just thought—" Quinn touches her own lips. "I just wanted to know what it was like, and since you're… you know…"

"Because I'm the resident dyke, must mean I want to bang every chick in sight, is that it? Well, I'm glad that's not offensive at _all_."

"No! No, that's not—no," Quinn rambles, flustered. "Never mind, forget everything. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have even brought it up."

Blushing hard and practically curled into herself, Quinn tries to walk past Santana on her way out.

"Oh for fuck's sake," Santana grumbles, grabbing Quinn's arm and pulling her closer, "come here."

Quinn's body shows little resistance as Santana's hands slide down Quinn's sides and come to rest against her hips. Their faces are inches apart, and Quinn's _shaking_.

"Relax," Santana tells her. "Jesus, you look like you're about to pass out. If I have to call for an ambulance, I'm telling them you were eating me out and forgot to breathe."

Color drains from Quinn's cheeks, but her knees buckle as she squeezes her thighs together.

Santana laughs. "It's a joke, but I can see you're not opposed. Maybe next week." She reaches up and brushes a few strands of Quinn's now-short hair out of her face. Santana's voice softens."But seriously, Q, breathe."

Santana leans in, watching as Quinn's eyes flutter shut. Her lips press against Quinn's, and Quinn groans. It's a soft kiss, nothing like what Santana wants to do, but Quinn's kissing back tentatively and making these tiny little noises at the back of her throat. It's driving Santana nuts, and she can't help herself; she pushes her tongue past Quinn's lips, eliciting a gasp that slowly draws into a moan. Quinn grinds her hips against Santana's. Yeah, Santana thinks distantly, Fabray's straight as a circle.

When Santana pulls away a moment later, they're both breathing hard. Quinn's forehead comes to rest against Santana's as she tries to catch her breath, and Santana almost laughs at the absurdity of it all.

"Shit, Quinn. _Shit_. Does that satisfy your curiosity or should we do that again?"

Quinn tries to shake her head. "No, that was… that was good."

Santana leans in and grabs one last quick kiss before untangling herself from Quinn. "Anytime you're curious about… other stuff, you let me know."

Quinn nods. "Thanks."

Casting one look up and down Santana's body, Quinn turns to leave, somehow still carrying herself with dignity. As soon as she disappears from view, Santana leans against the wall of the treehouse and sighs. She finds that she doesn't even mind being a part of one of Quinn's repressed lesbianism phases as long as _that_ keeps happening.

Santana isn't surprised when, at 3:43 am the next morning, her phone buzzes against her nightstand.

_Montoya treehouse._

_fin_


End file.
